


drink your sense away

by uptownskunk



Series: 100 Fandoms Challenge [26]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: 100 Fandoms Challenge, Drunkenness, POV Second Person, Permanent Injury, Quad Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 02:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18379208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptownskunk/pseuds/uptownskunk
Summary: It doesn’t actually occur to you that this probably isn’t a good idea until your back is already on the cramped little cot in the Cheery Man’s office and the man himself’s bulk is heavy on top of you.





	drink your sense away

**Author's Note:**

> 026/100 for the 100 Fandoms Challenge. Written for prompt #75 – snap. 
> 
> I really like the headcanon that the Cheery Man’s injury affected his dick as well as his legs, giving him nerve damage that makes him impotent and probably some kind of horrible physical scarring, and that this makes him have Issues with anyone touching/seeing him below the waist.

It doesn’t actually occur to you that this probably isn’t a good idea until your back is already on the cramped little cot in the Cheery Man’s office and the man himself’s bulk is heavy on top of you.

You’ve had too much to drink and he’s _definitely_ had too much but his mouth is wet and biting at your neck, his callused hands under your shirt groping at your chest, and the part of your wine soaked mind that knows how dangerous this is doesn’t stand a chance to the rest of your head that’s stuck on how good it feels and how much you don’t want it to end.

Common sense, you decide, can wait until morning.

Your teeth catch the Cheery Man’s ear, tugging at it, and you smirk when it makes him groan into your neck. You work a hand between your bodies, aiming to slip it under the man’s belt to grasp his cock but all of a sudden he goes still on top of you and quickly, faster than you’d imagine a man so large and drunk capable, one of his hands shoots down to grip you at the wrist, squeezing it until it hurts.

The Cheery Man  rears back to look down at you, his eyes still glazed from the drink but with a sharp harshness to them that has you freezing instinctively and a frisson of  alarm running up your spine.

“No,” he snaps, voice grave and deadly. “Don’t touch me. Not there.”

You want to ask why but the tone in his voice and the look on his face  are all warning, none of it making you think he’ll be happy to satisfy your curiosity, and you don’t know what to say otherwise. You don’t know him well enough to tease, don’t care about him well enough to reassure, and you’re not stupid enough to even consider mocking.

You settle for giving a short nod instead.

The Cheery Man glares down at you for a second longer  as though to make his demand sink in but then his body relaxes  and his eyes lose their sharpness, fading back into the hot, drunken desire from before. 

His mouth goes back to your throat, hand releasing your wrist to go back under your shirt, and you let him, pretending that the quick beat of your pulse has nothing to do with fear.


End file.
